The Other One
by Heptapora
Summary: Flintheart Glomgold felt Scrooge McDuck was a mirror image of himself. How could they end up in different fates? Alternative universe with Glomgold being the richest man in the world.


Inside the ward it was quiet. Walls were printed turquoise, a blue curtain separated in between. Aylott sat beside the bed, peeling an apple. On the desk next to him was his portfolio, he had brought a few papers with him, so that he could read when he was waiting. It was not busy those days, he had finished his work an hour ago. Now, staring at the patient on the bed, he wondered if it would be better for him to pass away. No, he didn't hate him. He just believed he would be happier in another world, that was what other people, those who called him "the richest man in the world", would never understand.

"Aylott, where am I?" Now he woke up.

"In the hospital, Mr. Glomgold." He said. "You suffered a stroke yesterday."

"Yesterday! I must have missed the report from Thailand! Let me get out of here…" He tried to pull out the needle and raise, but was stopped by Aylott.

"It has been looked after, sir. You need to have a rest." Aylott calmly insisted.

"No, the…"

"The stock market of southeast Asia! That's what I was concerned!" The door was opened at that moment. Two people came in. The one walking in front was an old man in a red coat and a top hat, a well-dressed old lady was following him, when they passed by she greeted them with a smile.

Glomgold narrowed his eyes.

"They are the McDucks. Mr. McDuck is your roommate, sir."

Glomgold didn't respond. His attention was caught up by the ongoing conversation.

"That's not an excuse for not sleeping for two days. You fainted in the office! I should have never left home to give you such a chance…" She kept her voice down, while helped her husband to take off the coat, that made her speech more like a mild complaining than reproach with anger.

"I was just tired!"

"And you didn't eat."

"Well, I had a cup of nutmeg tea…"

"The kitchen is just one floor above your office."

"I didn't have time! I don't know what all the fuss was about. When I was…"

"You are not in your mid-twenties, darling. I love it when you refuse to give up to your age, but if you keep doing this we may lose you at any minute. Take care of yourself, okey?" They turned to another side of the room. Behind the curtain, two figures got close. Then he heard the man mumble: "Alright! Alright! Just ask Donald to bring me some newspaper while I'm here."

"What did you say is his name?" Glomgold suddenly asked, "Is he a millionaire?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Scrooge McDuck is a successful banker and entrepreneur." He carefully added: "But of course, his fortune is no match for yours."

Glomgold didn't seem to listen. "Bring me all you can find about his investments." He said.

That was exactly Aylott was worried about. "Mr. Glomgold, he is no threat to your business…"

"Do as I said." He drily replied, ended the conversation.

Glomgold returned to the office on the next day. Aylott carefully arranged his schedule, so that he wouldn't be overburdened. His boss noticed the arrangement, but didn't say anything. Both he and Aylott understood the impact of age on his health. Sometimes Aylott wondered what would happen to his financial empire after his death.

This morning Glomgold came into the office rather late. When he passed by his secretary's desk, he told him McDuck would call in this afternoon. Aylott simply nodded, knowing too well what to do.

It has been a tradition for Glomgold to manipulate stock market to put pressure on his prey. He would deliberately leave a clue to his target, indicated whether he might survive depended on his will. When the desperate man finally gave up and called him, he would let Aylott to hang it off for three or four times, only after that would he picked up the phone. When his boss was in the mood, he might allow his man to survive in the market, but he must be completely loyal to him; or if he wanted this game to be more interesting, he tricked his man into a crooked contract, and destroyed him forever.

Aylott would prefer not to receive the call, and he didn't. One week after, Glomgold finally asked: "Did McDuck call?"

"No, sir."

"I don't understand…" he murmured, "Fetch me one of his financial reports, would you?"

"Yes, sir." He quickly responded. It was right in his top drawer.

Aylott was watching him when he read it. Initially he's pretty upset and impatient, he quickly read though the first few paragraphs and turned over the page. On the second page he slowed down and raised his eyebrow. Finally, he put down the report and murmured to himself: "This old bird is sharper than I thought." Aylott was surprised to see a smirk touched the corner of his lips.

Glomgold didn't seem to be frustrated, his next question was simple and straight: "Tell me his background."

For a moment Aylott had an impulse to ask why he was so interested in this man, but he didn't. He found the file, and followed the order without a comment:

" 'Scrooge McDuck was born in a Scottish family in 1867. He left home at 13 to seek for fortune, and struck it rich in Klondike gold rush. He married the famous "Glittering" Goldie O'Gilt in 1899 and settled in Duckburg, Calisoda. He has two sisters: Matilda McDuck married an Austrian professor Ludwig von Drake and currently lived in Scotland. His youngest sister, Hortense McDuck, married Quackmore Duck, who later became one of his managers. Mr. and Mrs. Duck died a few years ago, left their son and three grandsons.' Rumor said his empire will be inherited by his grandnephews, but it has never been confirmed." He handed in the summary with an attached photo.

"These three kids, huh?" Glomgold gazed at that piece of paper for a moment, asked: "What are those funny hats they wore? They look familiar."

"That's the hat of Junior Woodchucks, Mr. Glomgold. Their marshal came here last month, asked you to support a 'Young Leadership Program'."

"Now I remembered." Glomgold sat back with a confident smile, "Give them a call and say I will donate for their whatever program."

Aylott blinked, "Do you want these three kids to join, sir?"

"Yes, and they will. Because this program will provide them with the best opportunity to learn how to become a successful entrepreneur, and the richest man in the world will select his heir from the winners."

"But what if they refuse? If they know their uncle want them to inherit his company..."

"Oh, my boy!" Glomgold laughed, "They don't have to know what will happen, do they?"

Next time when Aylott saw McDuck was two months later. When he was writing a report at his deck, chaotic noises from the stair well distracted him from his work.

"Sir, you can't go there. Sir!"

An old man was walking towards his direction, left behind a group of secure guards trying to stop him. Aylott immediately put down his pen, stood up and asked: "Mr. McDuck, do you have an appointment?"

Noticing his presence, McDuck turned to face him. The next thing he found was a cane pointed to his face: "I want to see your boss, now!"

"Sir, you may…"

The office door suddenly opened. "Gentlemen, let him in." Glomgold stood in front, with his cane in hand. "I have business to discuss with Mr. McDuck."

McDuck glared at him and entered into the office.

Glomgold's office was not as luxurious as one might assume. He had one oak wood desk, a chair behind it, and a world map at the back. No chair was provided for the guest, but McDuck did not seem to care.

"Now," he said, with a bit excitement in his voice, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm not here to ask for your help," mildly irritated by his indication, McDuck was rather straightforward on his words: "I'm here to ask you what do you want from me."

"Why? I don't want anything." Glomgold asked, playfully grinned.

"You knew what you have done to Southeast Asia stock market. Now you want to use my nephews to act against me! You even want to use this nonsense program to drive a wedge between them!"

Very shrewd, he thought, just like me.

"No, dear," Glomgold slowly shook his head, "I want to help you."

McDuck frowned. The man on the other side of the desk was up to something, but he was not sure. "How? By making my nephews your heirs? The boys are too young to understand, but you and I both know you have no intention to let them take over your business!"

"You understand it, McDuck. Après moi, le deluge. But the boys don't. How do you know they are good business material? How do you know they wouldn't be tricked and lose all you earned in the future?"

He saw his opponent slightly twisted his eyebrow. It was close, he thought. "That's not important. The boys will learn their lessons. I have been double-crossed for countless times before I got rich."

His heart skipped a beat. "You see, I merely give them a chance to learn." Under the desk his hands were shaking, desperately wanted to know if that was an allusion, if he still remembered how they met back in Transvaal. "If they don't fight with each other now, they will fight for your inheritance later." It's hard to speak calmly, for what was disrupting his mind.

"You liar! I will never let that happen!"

"Oh? So it isn't true? You're going to divided your company into three parts?"

"If necessary." There was not enough strength in his words. Glomgold knew he asked the right question, but the old goat refused to compromise. "They're still kids. One or two of them may lose interest in business."

"Or all of them! Would you still be a kind granduncle at that time?" He grinned, "Or would you threat them to inherit your company?"

For a second it was quiet in the office, Glomgold noticed his opponent was no longer looking at him. "If so," McDuck signed, "I will liquidize my asset."

"How noble!" Glomgold applauded with a pretentious high voice. "How much I hope they could hear it!"

"They just did." McDuck replied with a smirk.

"What do you mean?"

"I meant what I said." He took out a Walkie-Talkie from his coat, "They heard every single word of our conversation."

Glomgold's face was stormy. He jumped up from his seat, grabbed the Walkie-Talkie and immediately smashed it onto the ground.

"You will receive a bill for that." McDuck drily remarked.

Glomgold wanted to grab his collar, but paused. He swallowed, and decided to accept his failure. "I guess that's it. Well done."

McDuck shook his head with disbelief. "What's with you, Glomgold? Why do you have to harass me and my families?"

This question, somehow, provoked his anger. "Why? Why? That's the what I should ask you! You have all you need to be the richest man in the world, but you are not! You're tough! Cunning! Diligent! Even fit! But look at how you waste your time! On these nonsense…" He began to shiver, couldn't control himself, swept all the stationeries from his desk. McDuck picked up one photo, it was him playing baseball with Donald and the kids. He suddenly understood.

"Do you have a family, Glomgold?"

The old man was down on his kneel, didn't reply a word.

"I once wondered what would happen if I give up everything to pursuit money, now I'm glad I didn't." He put the photo back into his wallet, "You are not the richest man in the world. You're only a poor old man."

He turned around and didn't look back again.


End file.
